


Going With the Flow

by DarkwingSnark, Moonbeamcat



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-18 06:19:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5901580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkwingSnark/pseuds/DarkwingSnark, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonbeamcat/pseuds/Moonbeamcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bushroot was used to feeling miserable over his love life; what he wasn't used to, however, was being miserable over a certain water salesman. The question was... would Liquidator grow to have feelings for HIM? A Bushroot/Liquidator story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once More With Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> A companion piece to 'It Started With A Spark'. Do not have to read it in order to read this story, though.

Sometimes, hidden away in his greenhouse on the outskirts of Saint Canard, Bushroot would take time to stop and contemplate.

Life had a funny way of throwing Dr. Bushroot curve balls. It started with having an opportunity to work at the local university- doing the work he had always dreamed of- only to be the laughing stock of the science department; which of course led to being FIRED from said department. And that leaving to him experimenting on himself out of desperation. But he had been successful! His experiment did exactly what it was supposed to- he was able to survive off the sun… just not in the way he had originally visioned or intended. Then there was, of course, the horrible luck of having the sweetest woman in the city - no, the world!- fall prey to the LIES presented about him by the media and that no good Darkwing Duck. Painting poor Reginald Bushroot into a monster, leaving him an outcast. A very lonely, and a very miserable cast. An outcast that if maybe he was a LITTLE bitter- enough to try and ruin Christmas, even- it was all because he was made that way by others being cruel and showing the mutant plant-duck that he would forever be the universe's punching bag.

He also thought dating a potato was a good idea at one point, but Bushroot didn't like thinking about Posy and it would rather be forgotten.

' _Though_ ,' he thought to himself, ' _I guess I'm not COMPLETELY alone._ '

It was true, he did have his plants and his venus-flytrap bodyguard- more of a pet, really- named Spike. But what he had of them in quantity, and though they did their best to fill his void and want of companionship, they just didn't do so well in the conversation part. There was only so many times the scientist was willing to discuss how great the sun was, before he had his fill. And, not so surprisingly, he had reached it very early after his transformation- right when the newness of his abilities stopped being… well, _new_. But he couldn't blame the plants. It wasn't their fault. If that was all they talked about it was because they didn't know what it was like to experience much anything else. They had never been a duck, as _he_ had.

So no, if he had wanted conversation, Bushroot found it elsewhere.

This thought caused Bushroot to smile as he thought about being a part of the Fearsome Five. While Negaduck was beyond scary and gave him the willies, the other guys weren't so bad! Quackerjack and Megavolt he had previously been introduced to, during one of his stays in prison. THOUGH, admittedly it hadn't been a pleasant first meeting- Quackerjack had been busy trying to use him to make his electrical pal jealous, and Bushroot didn't like feeling used. That, and he was pretty sure Megavolt still kept the grudge. However, joining the gang of villains was how he had been acquainted with someone else. Someone nicer, someone better!

It was how he met the Liquidator.

The watery, jargon spouting canine had been everything that Bushroot had ever wanted in a friend; he was nice, he was a good listener, he never made fun of him, and he actually seemed to enjoy Bushroot's company. Not only that, but the guy was everything he wished he was; powerful, confident, handsome, good with words... seriously, it seemed like the Liquidator always knew just what to say, on the fly, in any situation. Impressive.

"Yeah, impressive..." Bushroot sighed to his own reflection, as he sat slumped over a small lilypad pond in the corner of his greenhouse. One hand traced lazy patterns in the water's surface, his other hand preoccupied with supporting his head. Despite his heart being all a flutter, the eyes reflected back at him were full of a forlorn sadness.

His daze was broken, when Spike plopped his big head atop the stone wall of the little pond, right next to his master. The flytrap whimper-grumbled in concern, and Bushroot patted his mop of hair.

"Aw, I'm alright, Spike. Just a bout of love sickness, is all."

Spike lifted his head, and growled at Bushroot, incredulously. Bushroot frowned back at him.

"Hey, don't look at me like that! And this is NOT Rhoda all over again, _thank-you-very-much_. Nope, this plant duck has learned his lesson-" He paused there to sigh, dramatically, and slumped back over his pond.

" _No one dates a shrub._ "

It was true. Saps like him always came last, especially when it came to the love department. Life kept throwing these wonderful people he would get close to- first Dr. Rhoda Dendron and now Liquidator- only for him to soon after get TOO close. From his side, only. It had been that way with Rhoda. They had only worked closely with each other for a week before Bushroot had fallen head over heels for her. And those feelings had only grew by the days of knowing her; and before he knew it, four years had passed the scientist by.

And he probably would have never let her know his true feelings, if he hadn't been fired. Or turned into a lyceum nycanthropus. Then there was the fact Darkwing Duck had gotten into the picture and mulched the possibility of there ever being anything between Rhoda and himself. Sure, it was Rhoda that had turned him down- a fact he was still a bit bitter about- but Darkwing Duck has been the infestation in their flowerbed, for sure!

But time had become a pesticide and the blossoms of his love grew anew. Now there was another he wouldn't mind sharing his garden with.

"Yeah," Bushroot grumbled to himself, " and my prospects aren't much better either."

Sure, he doubt there was a way that weedkiller of a duck could possibly put much strain on the friendship between the salesman and himself- both he and Liquidator DESPISED Darkwing, after all! Yet, there were still issues. Issues involving the fact the Liquidator wasn't looking for a relationship- and not one with a guy. Liqui had once mentioned having an ex-wife in passing, and that seemed proof enough.

"Although," Bushroot argued with his own thought, absent-mindedly scratching under Spike's jaw- the flytrap panting from happiness, " I only had interest in ladies before, too. _Well, er, one woman._ But, but things changed! Maybe Liqui could, if I-"

If he what, _wooed him_? If it didn't work on a potato, there was no way he was going to make it work on somebody as suave and charismatic as the Liquidator. Just face it, he was just too wonderful and Bushroot was… not.

"Oh, who am I kidding? _He'd be scraping the bottom of a fertilizer sack_ ," he wilted with a heavy sigh.

Spike wilted right alongside of him for a moment. Then, as if struck with an idea, he leapt up, and took off to fetch something. Bushroot turned to look, curiously, when he returned with his old tuxedo, and a single red rose.

"Aw, cut it out, Spike. I told you, it's a waste of time. Just like me."

Spike growled in frustration, but he had gotten through to his master, it seemed. Bushroot bent down and took the rose from him, looking it over, thoughtfully.

"Then again... I guess there's no harm in being nice to a friend whom you appreciate, is there?"

"Nu-uh, nuh-uh!" Spike agreed, shaking his head from side to side.

The mutant plant-duck smiled softly at the rose, as an idea struck him. Blue. He would need lots and lots of blue. Loads of it, oodles of it! He had most of what he needed already there, it shouldn't be so hard- he WAS a botanist, after all. But… he would still need a few additional things. Which meant leaving his sanctuary.

The thought surprisingly enough didn't wilt him, as Bushroot called to his flytrap eagerly.

"Hey Spike, how about a walk? _I think we'll need to do some shopping_."


	2. The Manner of Giving

No one really knew for certain where the Liquidator called home when he wasn't out and about (although there were a few rumors about him sloshing around the basement of the old Fludd bottling plant), and he was just fine with that. The truth was, he lived a rather solitary, lonely, and uneventful existence when he wasn't causing mayhem around the city. Such a sad, sad ending for such a charismatic people person such as himself.

He considered the rest of the Fearsome Five- minus Negaduck- his friends, to a certain extent; they were certainly the closest thing to actual friends he could ever remember having. But, whether it be due to a mutant kinship bond, or simply the fact he was the only other team member who wasn't completely insane, the Liquidator felt the closest to Bushroot.

The confirmation that this sentiment was returned, came one night after a mostly successful heist. Faced with the realization that it was back to hiding in solitude after they parted ways, he jumped at the offer to hang out at Bushroot's greenhouse, instead.

"Cozy!" The Liquidator had said on arrival, inspecting the place. He could certainly see the appeal. The water canine had been bending towards one of the bushes with roses on them, with the intent of taking in their aroma, that he completely missed the slight flushing of Bushroot's cheeks.

"Oh, well, thank you! I always liked it." Of course, that was before the scientist had to live there for good. But Bushroot remained quiet on that fact. "Sorry that it's a little messy. I guess Spike got into the compost again and it made him hyper."

Still standing next to the shrubbery, the salesman was about to say something when he was startled by a giant head popping out of the bushes- panting and happy that their master was home. Noticing the water dog, Spike became more excited as they began licking him- drinking from the living tap.

"Well hello," Liquidator greeted, amused.

"Spike, no! Bad Spike, down boy!" Buhsroot rushed to the guard-plant, pulling him out of his friend. "I can't believe you, Spike! Where's your manner? We don't drink guests!"

The mutant plant-duck smiled sheepishly up at his pal- still both hands holding the creation back.

"Er, sorry 'bout that, Liqui."

"No need for apologies! Always happy to see a satisfied customer. And there's plenty of Liquidator brand water to go around!" The salesman boasted.

What Bushroot intended to be a polite chuckle, came out as an awkward, bubbly giggle, and he promptly cleared his throat to cut it off. He threw a sideways glare at his snickering flytrap.

"A-hem, yes, well, if you'll follow me, I have something, I'd like to show you!" The scientist turned, the temperature of his face seemed to be rising at an alarming rate, and he suddenly began to doubt that this had been a good idea. As he started toward the center of the greenhouse, brushing past various overgrown plants as he did so, he silently hoped the Liquidator was indeed following, and was too nervous to look back and check.

" _Oh_?"

His guest's voice caused him to flinch- but it sounded as if he was following! Oh, good. So far, so ... well, he wouldn't call it good just yet, but it wasn't terrible, and Bushroot was content with turned his head slightly as Liquidator continued to speak.

"A little mystery keeps customers hooked! I like it."

"Oh, well, haha. It isn't anything great or anything, it's just... well, it's um... it's there."

They had made it to the little work area Bushroot had set up. There were mostly bottles and test tubes lying about, standard lab equipment, really. What was of interest, however, was a ceramic and colorfully ornamented bowl sitting among it all- glaringly out of place. The scientist led the Liquidator closer to the desk, where blue petals started peeking out more and more. The water dog wasn't much surprised to see that- Dr. Bushroot's home was a greenhouse, after all. His place was FULL of flowers. It was when they reached the desk that Liquidator's eyes shot up at what he saw. Not asking permission, but it was obvious the plant-duck saw no qualms with the act, Liquidator picked up the bowl to look at it curiously.

"Now this is new. Been keeping yourself busy, I see."

It was definitely a strange but appealing specimen. The salesman wouldn't normally be surprised to see a lilypad floating in water- even if it was a bit more turquoise in color than breeds he was used to. What caught him by surprise was that instead of a traditional lotus flower sitting on top, it was a small bouquet of blue roses growing naturally in the middle.

' _WELL, maybe not so naturally_ ,' he thought wryly.

Liquidator's attention was brought away from the plant as Bushroot nervous voice caught his attention.

"Yeah, well, n-not more than usual. I mean, heh, I kinda got all the free time in the world these days." It was better to leave the bitterness of that thought alone and move on. Which was what the plant-duck did. "Do… Do you like it? I don't know if flowers are your sort of thing or not. But it's for you, if you want it."

Surprise was comically evident of the Liquidator's face, and then he began to smile. That smile was a welcome sight to Bushroot, and it was for the best he didn't know the true reasoning for its existence.

Surprise, confusion, amusement. Liquidator experienced all of these in rapid succession- Bushroot was giving him flowers. Liquidator had given countless flowers to countless women, but he had certainly never received any before. Call him old fashioned, but a guy receiving flowers just seemed odd, backward, and yes, amusing.

But the Liquidator held back his laughter, and only a wide smile broke through. While perhaps not a traditional gift to give your fellow guy friend, Bushroot wasn't exactly your traditional guy. Flowers were his life, his passion, and he had used that same passion to create something for him. Liquidator was touched, and this wasn't a guy who deserved to be laughed at.

"For me? It's beautiful, Bushroot, but what's the occasion?"

Bushroot had calmed down a little after seeing Liquidator smile- then began to nervously wring his hands together again. He had never been a good liar, and his watery friend had a way of putting inflections on his words that made him feel like he was center stage on 'Who Wants to Win a Whole Bunch of Cash'. No pressure!

"W-what? N-no reason! What, can't a guy just give a gift of flowers?" Liquidator's face obviously told him he didn't buy it. Swallowing down his nervousness as best he could, Bushroot looked away shyly as he dropped his defensive act. "Well, _okay_ , so there's a bit of a reason. You know how it is, looking like this. Ya know, like… like…"

" _A colorful personality_?" Liquidator offered sympathetically.

"That, sure. It makes it hard to blend in and leave the greenhouse. And I already mentioned all the free time." The plant-duck paused, using the time to take a deep breath to carefully think of his words. "I think about stuff a lot, and you were one on my mind."

Not the whole truth, but it was still the truth. Just leaving out the whole 'hopelessly in love' part.

Liquidator looked back at the plant in his hands and smiled.

"Must have been a pleasant thought. STILL, thank you. I more than appreciate the gesture!" Still with his attention on the flower in its bowl, he wrapped an arm around his criminal companion as he mused. "This will certainly freshen up my current living arrangements. Liquidator brand hideouts might be best at alluding unwanted caped heroes, but they're hard to furnish with that warm touch."

Despite his confused emotions, having the Liquidator in his personal space felt much less awkward than with anyone else. This, too, Bushroot had thought about at length, but even a hopeless romantic like himself knew it was simply a biological reaction between a plant and a water source. Probably.

"Oh! You're welcome, I, I'm glad you like it, heh heh. You know, if you want, I could, visit sometime, and spruce the place up a bit. Free of charge, of course!"

His watery companion moved away with a fluidity that only a being made entirely of water could manage, and gave Bushroot a look of horror that was obviously fake and overplayed.

"Free?" Liquidator shook his head, and waved a disciplinary finger at him. "Bushroot, Bushroot; we really need to work on your marketing skills. But for now..."

He gestured widely to the rest of the relatively large greenhouse.

"What other interesting projects has the infamous Doctor Bushroot been up to?"

Bushroot was more than happy to show his new friend around, and the Liquidator was happy to play along and pretend he had an interest in flowers. The most interesting specimen, he decided, was definitely the one supplying the tour. The guy just held so much more excited enthusiasm for his work than he had ever seen in anyone else- except, perhaps, for himself. Liquidator's thoughts went back to the flower Bushroot had bestowed upon him. He would have to find a way to properly thank his friend later. For now, the water dog would simply (and happily) enjoy the rest of his visit.

* * *

Bushroot, Liquidator found, was surprisingly harder to shop for than expected. Back in his days as Bud Fludd he didn't exactly have friends. Sure- family, close associates, and more importantly, business partners- but those friends did not make. It would have also been different if the gift he had intended was romantic in nature. He found that while women came in all sorts of packages, from looks to points-of-view, it was hard for the ladies not to appreciate a gift of flowers or a very expensive piece of jewelry.

But it wasn't like he could just go out and steal Bushroot a 20 piece gold karat necklace… _right?_

No, as much as that thought amused the Liquidator even more than male friends giving each other flowers, that would never do. Bushroot's gift had come from a place of good intent, and it would do no good to jest about it. Besides, the salesman admitted to himself, he truly HAD been touched by the sentiment.

That left him with very few other options. In the past he would have just given other men monogrammed pens or rolex watches if he was trying to chum it up with people whose money talked. Liquidator had quickly checked those off his list, and then lamented as that meant nothing sports related either. The winning touchdown football from a favorite team would do nothing for a companion whose interest lied in the sciences. It was slightly infuriating, actually. Here the water salesman had made it his whole career to read people, to know what they were all about in order to manipulate them the way he wanted to… But outside of that, it was almost new territory.

He refused to have Bushroot top him in the gift department- it simply would not do!

Inspiration, in the Liquidator's experience, tended to flow more freely when he was out and about. A late night stroll around the city- under the cover of his coat and fedora, of course- seemed to be in order.

This particular night was dreary, a light rain blanketing the city. Ah, the perfect night for a walk! It also assured he was unlikely to run into any bystanders along the way. His cloaked figure glided soundlessly down the street, until-

"Are you bored? Find yourself with too much time on your hands?"

Oh? That sounded familiar and relevant to his problem. Liquidator stopped, and backtracked, until he was in front of the display window. An advertisement was playing on a large, expensive looking television.

"Don't you wish you were watching this advertisement right now? Well, wish no more! It's time to get with the twenty-first century; buy a television!"

"Hmm," Liquidator mused aloud, rubbing at his coat covered chin, "they may have a point. Bushroot could use some mind-numbing entertainment every now and again."

Being naturally an overly emotional being was one thing, being depressed with no outlet was another. And there was no doubt in the Liquidator's mind that Bushroot had trouble with the latter. He momentarily wondered if the plant-duck had always been like that, before shrugging it off. Bushroot just needed more Liquidator brand of company to help with that too. Sure to lift up the spirits of all shrubs- customer satisfaction guaranteed!

Liquidator eyed the television set in the store one more time before deciding he would rob the place afterhours- friendship was no reason to cut corners in the villany department, after all!

* * *

Waiting around in the greenhouse for its owner to return had been an interesting experience. First it required getting Bushroot out of the way so he could bring the packages- and the hush-hush contractor- in to set everything up. (He would have done it himself, if he didn't have to worry about water damage.) Sending a message for the plant-duck to meet him at a familiar location was underhanded and would surely annoy him, but Liquidator was sure the surprise would more than make up for a little lying.

Spike wasn't happy about the intruders in the greenhouse, and he had ripped the seat out of the contractor's pants as they left. The Liquidator had found this hilarious, and didn't bother holding back his laughter this time. The flytrap didn't seem at all amused, though, and had turned to growl at him before scampering off to huddle under a table.

Spike might not have comprehended everything a duck could, but he wasn't stupid. He understood enough. He understood that his master talked about nothing but the Liquidator these days, often too wrapped up in his own bubbly musings that he forgot to feed Spike, completely ignoring him most times. He understood that he had been replaced again. And, perhaps worst of all, he understood there was nothing he could do about it.

When the Liquidator appeared, peeking under the table at him, he snorted and turned around. He wasn't speaking to him.

"Hey! What gives?" The Liquidator enquired, reaching a hand out to pat the flytrap on the head. He had never been great with animals- although, admittedly, his ex-wife's cat had been his only real contact with an animal, but that hadn't been a very happy experience.

Spike began to growl, and he really wanted to turn around and bite the hand that pet him, but he just couldn't. His growl trailed off into a whimper, and it didn't take long before he was stretched across the Liquidator's lap- or what could pass as a lap. The petting felt nice. He would get back to his grudge later. Maybe.

"Ah, lonely, perhaps?" The Liquidator could relate.

Spike was too far gone to respond, and instead just drunk up the attention. When the flytrap was fully satisfied with the treatment of his back, he did a comical flip- showcasing his belly as his head hung over the water dog's legs. Liquidator gurgled a guffaw, but nevertheless gave the flytrap what he wanted. He aimed to please, after all!

It was in this state that Bushroot had returned to his greenhouse, his visible frustrations of being stood up melting away to confusion.

"Prunes n' sheers! What in the world- Liqui!" Happiness at seeing the object of his affection turned to confusion. "What are YOU doing here? I, I thought we were supposed to be meeting up at the warehouse near your bottling company!"

Liquidator gently removed Spike from his lap- the flytrap giving whines of protest- before standing in a fluid flourish.

"Change in plans! Decided to make a housecall instead. Apologies for standing you up, but I assure you it was with good cause."

Still feeling hurt and mildly betrayed from being stood up, Liqui's words raised alarm in his mind.

"A good cause? What happened, _what did you do_?" He began scanning what plants he could see in a panic. The cool, liquid hand on his back helped to calm his nerves, and he allowed himself to be led further inside.

"See for yourself!"

Leaves parted, and Bushroot gasped. Against the far wall, framed by undisturbed plant life, stood a very large and very fancy entertainment system. It was flanked by sizable speakers, and a big plush chair sat in front of the whole thing.

"Oh Liqui, I- I don't know about this; it looks really expensive! You didn't actually buy this all for me, did you?"

"You could say that!"

Bushroot yelped when he was scooped up and dropped into the chair- a rather comfortable landing it was, at that.

"Why settle for ordinary, stale boredom, when you can have hours upon hours of mindless entertainment instead?"

"Entertainment?" Bushroot was too busy being consumed by mixed feelings that his brain was having trouble keeping up with the conversation. "I, thank you Liqui. But, I don't exactly own movies these days. All the ones I owned were at my old apartment." A pause. "This IS one comfy chair though."

"Aaah, but I've already taken care of that." The Liquidator bubbled up with pride. "Through hidden accounts it wasn't hard to get you signed up for a streaming service. For just approximately nine dollars a month you can have your pick of all the hit movies and tv shows you can think of. And you'll be enjoying yourself on the Fludd Bottling Corporation's dime!"

"Oh, but I don't-"

"But wait, _there's more_!" The Liquidator was quick to interrupt. After going through all that effort he would not take 'no' for an answer. Especially when he could see his criminal companion was enjoying the gift and attention. "And through the handiness of the internet, you're just one click away from endless music. Botanists agree: the melodious arts are welcomed for keeping plants happy and healthy. You wouldn't deprive them of that, _would you_?"

Bushroot smiled, despite the fact he could see that the other villain was trying to manipulate him through his love of his plants. He chuckled.

"Well, I suppose I wouldn't want to do that." The plant-duck's smile slipped from his bill and was replaced with a worried frown. " Are you really sure this is okay? You were just saying the other day you lacked furniture, and I mean, all I did was give you a flower!"

The living puddle slid in between Bushroot and the television, and held up a finger.

"Ah, not just any flower! A very special flower. Plus, gifting! The perfect way to let your friends know they're appreciated."

Bushroot couldn't help but grin. His pal had a point, and it felt nice to have a friend- a friend whom he didn't have to literally create in order for them to like him.

"Yeah, I guess... but still, I mean...is it really fair for me to have all this, while you go without?" He gestured toward the chair more than the entertainment system. It was unusual for Bushroot to feel this amount of charitableness, timid as he may be. However the thought of someone whom had actually been so nice to him, living poorly so he could live better, still didn't sit right with him.

"The Liquidator and furniture, do not mix!" The watery canine waved his hands and shook his head. "The last time I sat on a couch, I was stuck in the cushions for four whole days."

The exaggerated look of annoyance on Liquidator's face as he recalled the memory managed another smile- this one Bushroot tried to cover with a leafy palm.

"That sounds pretty bad, yeah. Well, if you're sure about all this…" The villain rose from his chair, fully intending on giving his pal a hug, when he stopped. His outstretched arms withdrew back towards his chest as he began rubbing his hands together. Geeze, why did socializing have to be so hard? Bushroot cleared his throat. "Th-thank you again, um, I really DO like it! But, ya know, you didn't have to go all out for me. I'm a simple plant-duck, with simple needs. I would have been just as happy with a sack of fertilizer!"

Liquidator, seeing that it was obvious that his companion wanted to express his gratitude with physical contact, took the initiative as he placed two hands on Bushroot's shoulders. He gave them a slight squeeze.

"Ah, a man of practicality. It has been duly noted, though I still think a little luxury is good for you. When there's a risk of being caught and thrown in prison, may as well go big or go home!"

There went that shiver again, that biological reaction to being in close contact with water. Yes, that. He was probably on the verge of dehydration- he made a note to get that checked out.

"If you say so. Hey, you wanna test out the new equipment? Uh, the television, I mean."

"Don't mind if I do!"

And so they did. They sat in front of that entertainment system for hours. They laughed, they pretended not to cry, _poorly_ , they laughed some more. Until, eventually and unfortunately, the Liquidator had to leave. This was always the moment that Bushroot dreaded. He often forgot just how quiet his greenhouse was, until the bubbly salesman was no longer in it.

"Oh, I wish he could stay a little longer, sometimes..." he lamented to no one but his plants. He walked around his, now seemingly empty, home. "I guess a greenhouse just isn't very accommodating to guys like him."

Suddenly, his somber mood lifted. He straightened and grinned.

"Hey, why couldn't it be!" he exclaimed with excited optimism. "Spike! Get the shovels, get the potting soil, get the- Spike?"

Bushroot scowled at the snoring flytrap, who had stolen his chair the moment he had gotten out of it. While he was annoyed, he was also very tired, himself.

"Oh, fine, have it your way. We'll get some shut-eye first, then."

They would both need all of their strength the following day, after all. A lot of work lay ahead of them, but as Bushroot was quickly discovering, there were just some things worth a little extra effort.

* * *

It was a week later when the Liquidator showed up to the greenhouse, completely unannounced. Swirling up out of the sink drain of the closest area that could be called a kitchenette, the water salesman stretched widely. Ever since his transformation the Liquidator has discovered that pipes may have been a great way to travel- no traffic!- but it also made him slightly anxious. Tight spaces did that a lot those days, no doubt from the mental association with imprisonment.

Yet, it was worth it if it allowed him the freedom to go places.

Liquidator leaned against the sink as he noticed that the greenhouse seemed noisier than usual. Using a watery ear to scratch his head, Liquidator hummed in curiosity.

"Hmm, curiouser and curiouser." The sound of Bushroot shouting orders caught his attention, as he slunk and slivered from the sink and across the little makeshift kitchen area. "The good doctor must have himself another project on his leafy mitts."

Perhaps, he thought to himself, there might be the need of Liquidator brand assistance!

Finding his way to the source of the commotion didn't turn out to be hard at all. He quickly came across several uprooted trees and shrubs, dashing dutifully in the same direction. They carried various things in their arm-like limbs- bags of potting soil, powder cement (he made sure and gave those ones a wide berth), rakes, and shovels. Liquidator shrugged, and followed the procession.

They led him to an area that was quite familiar. He was certain of this as soon as the entertainment system he had acquired for Bushroot came into view. There wasn't much else to view, however- a number a fairly large trees obscured much of the view, as they busily worked on something.

He was able to see Bushroot, however, who was also watching the trees work. His back was to Liquidator, and his purple hair petals poked out from under a bright yellow construction hat.

"What's all this?"

Bushroot jumped and spun around upon hearing his friend's voice, and scrambled to pick up the clipboard he had dropped.

"Liquidator! Yuh- you, you're not supposed to be here!"

"I'm not?" The other villain responded, amused. "I assumed visitation of a beloved friend was open invitation. Apologies for being mistakened!" A pause. "But, since I'm already here- _too little too late_ \- how about an explanation? It's free to give, and experts agree: _friends don't leave their pals in the dark._ "

Bushroot had been hiding behind his clipboard as the watery canine prattled his jargon- trying to hide his embarrassment at being caught in the act of mid-surprise. He slowly peeked from behind his shield as he cleared his throat.

"Oh, no, you're always welcomed, Liqui. Promise! It's just, um…"

" _Yeeees_?" The Liquidator coaxed.

"It's just I wasn't ready for you yet. I-I was going to get you after it was, I mean, after I finished something."

Liquidator peaked around the plant-duck, looking quizzically at the trees shielding this _something_ from his line of site.

"Must be some big something." He made his way towards the workers, the trees shifting enough so he could see a cement mixer pouring cement into a hole. "I didn't realize even plant-ducks had a need for secrecy."

_Oh, he had no idea._ Bushroot was back to hiding behind the clipboard again as he replied.

"Sometimes. Especially because… because it's for you, was supposed to be a surprise."

While normally a person pointing to a hole in the ground and saying it's meant for you would be seen as a serious threat, Liquidator liked to think Bushroot liked him a little more than that.

"Oh? More gifts? Consider me successfully surprised!" So the gifting game was still going on. That was fine, Liquidator enjoyed a challenge.

"Oh, well, I wouldn't really call it a gift, per se...ah! Sprucey, a little to the left, we need to keep things even, here!"

Bushroot moved away to direct his workers better, leaving his soggy friend standing there to wonder. Liquidator didn't care for being in the dark. You couldn't have the upper hand when you were in the dark. He collapsed into a puddle, and reformed in front of Bushroot.

"I see! Doctor Bushroot, the question on everyone's mind..."

The watery canine spun around, and peered over the side of the hole, ears perking up. When he spoke again, his voice had lost its usual booming quality, and was left sounding almost comically child-like.

" _What is it?_ "

The plant-duck, momentarily taken back by how adorable he found his friend's curiosity, cleared his throat Bushroot gestured towards his clipboard, holding it up for Liquidator to look over the blueprints (while not damaging them) as he explained.

"Er, well… It's a pool. I felt bad that you had to sit in the dirt the last time you were here. And I, uh, thought you might like something a bit more comfortable?" It was answered as a question, Bushroot's own nerves pointing out he didn't exactly know what made somebody made out of water relax. He indicated to the diagram as he went on. " See here? I'm setting it up next to the chair so we can watch movies together."

The scientist blinked as he realized it had been a while and still the Liquidator hadn't said a word. Worry reared its ugly head as Bushroot began to panic. Did Liqui not like it? Did he take offense? Maybe there was something the scientist wasn't seeing in the act, not being made out of water.

' _Or_ ,' Bushroot thought with dread, his heart pounding in his chest from how it raced, ' _maybe he now thinks you're being too clingy and will decide to go away forever_!'

For once in his life, the Liquidator found himself speechless. Gears turned in his mind, a new perspective slowly weaving itself into existence. Up until that day, he had been looking at this as some sort of grand contest, a test of creativity and resourcefulness. Sure, they were friends, but he had assumed it was a thing of necessity, convenience. But Bushroot was willing to completely reconstruct a part of his own home, just to make the Liquidator comfortable.

Bushroot actually wanted him around. If this had ever been a contest, the Liquidator had just lost it.

When he finally registered his leafy pal again, the look of naked fear on his face surprised was that look for? ... Oh. How long had he been silent? Then the Liquidator smiled, and everything was alright again. Bushroot allowed himself to exhale.

"I, don't know what to say!" The watery canine admitted, sloshing closer gracefully, and draping an arm over Bushroot's scant shoulders. "There's no doubt about it; when it comes to the subject of thoughtfulness, Doctor Bushroot annihilates the competition!"

Oh, thank goodness. Bushroot could finally relax. Unless Liquidator was just being polite, and Bushroot would never see him again after this- no. _Stop that_ , he silently scolded himself.

"Oh, well, it's really no big deal, I mean, but, you're very welcome, Liqui."

"Buddy."

"...Huh?" Bushroot glanced up at his friend, but Liquidator wasn't looking at him. Instead, he gazed thoughtfully at the hole that would eventually become a pool, his arm still draped over Bushroot's shoulders.

"It's what friends used to call me. Before the whole, rebranding incident, anyway. You can call me Buddy."

It was Bushroot's turn to feel the sentimental warmth hit him, as he looked away from the watery canine. Cheeks mildly flushed, the plant-duck did nothing to hide the huge cheesy grin on his bill. Buddy. He wanted Bushroot to call him by his real name, a name only people close to the Liquidator called him. And he wanted him, Reginald Bushroot, _his friend_ , to call him it!

" _Buddy_ ," the scientist whispered, testing it out and feeling all the better for it. This made the Liquidator smile. Bushroot's head quickly jerked back to look at his pal as he realized he had been silent for far too long.

"Okay, yeah. I can call you that, if you want." And if he didn't, too bad. It was too late now, the invite was there and Bushroot would be saying it over and over again after Liquidator finally left his greenhouse. Bushroot cleared his throat again, before continuing. "I'm Reginald, by the way."

"Ah, what, friends never call you 'Reggie'?" Liquidator asked cheerfully. The plant-duck gave him a look that read ' _what friends_?' and before he could say it, Liqui went on. "Reggie it is then! And I'm looking very much forward to becoming a regular guest in your flourished abode!"

' _You and me both.'_


	3. Thirst

Spending additional time around Bushroot's greenhouse had made the Liquidator realize two very crucial things: that his fellow mutant snored in his sleep and, more importantly, _that Dr. Reginald Bushroot had a crush on him._

It had been during a meeting with the rest of the Fearsome Five that the realization hit him. Negaduck had been looking for answers on how to fix a metaphorical hole in their plans to rob the museum of the Mystic Saxophone from their Egyptian wing. Liquidator was busy suggesting a diversion and replacing it with a decoy, when he had noticed Bushroot watching him intently. Sure, this wasn't completely uncalled for- his brand of jargon and speaking was specially designed to keep the most uninterested of people hooked onto his every word. However, it was once he finished and Negaduck had reclaimed the floor, that the water salesman had caught his pal still staring- their leader completely ignored as his focus was on him, eyes half lidded and a goofy smile on his bill. The Liquidator had found this curious, as he- careful not to draw unwanted attention- leaned towards the plant-duck to inquire about it.

" _Everything okay, Reggie_?' he whispered.

That foggy, faraway look in Bushroot's eyes was suddenly gone, and the blushing and stammering of someone who had just been caught staring began. It was something that Liquidator- or rather, Bud Fludd, had seen before. But never from another guy, and that was what had him surprised and perplexed.

After the team had parted ways that night, Liquidator politely declined the invitation to hang out at the greenhouse again- he had a little thinking to do. Namely, what to do about this new discovery. He could, of course, just ignore it, as crushes tended to be fleeting, or he could act on this limited time offer...

Liquidator, currently reclined in a tub that served as his bed most nights, tapped his chin, thoughtfully. He had never dated another guy before, nor had there ever been a time he could recall it crossing his mind. Was it such an odd concept? Did such trivial details even matter on the subject of two beings mutated to the point of near genderlessness? Not that it would have necessarily stopped him even if it DID matter. While Bud had some traditional ways of thinking, more from the generation he was from than from being closed-minded about THOSE sorts of people, at heart he was also one that never followed the rules.

And what bigger rule was there to break than what was expected of him?

Still, this was dangerous ground to tread on. Anyone who could simply pick up and read a newspaper was well aware of Bushroot's debut into villainy, and how it was connected to spurned affections. Not that the scientist could really kidnap Liquidator, even if he wanted to- the plus side about being made of water being that it allowed him to eventually escape anything. THOUGH, after getting to know the guy, Bud was sure he wouldn't have to worry about any of that. He was obsessive, sure, and could be persistent and a little clingy at the worst of times… But, and this the salesman was sure of, the scientist was harmless as far as their relationship was concerned. Bushroot was just a little lonely.

' _Aren't we all_ ,' Liquidator mused to himself. ' _And I can't say it wouldn't have been the first time I've dated just to pass the time._ '

It was how he ended up married to his ex-wife, after all.

Brushing the thoughts of Karen to the side, because those certainly wouldn't be helping the decision process any, Liqui decided he would have to sit on it. Just because he wasn't disgusted by the notion- and in fact, was very flattered- didn't mean he should do it, either. Bushroot was his friend. And, admittedly, the most important person still in his life right now.

"Still, who knows? Time and opportunity can open unexpected doors!"

* * *

While Bushroot and Liquidator were realizing their potential as friends, Negaduck had been scoping out their potential as a villainous team. It was true that they worked well together, their powers complementing the other, and that was what had landed them in the wealthiest section of St. Canard one afternoon.

"Does this seem a little, I dunno, silly to you?" Bushroot questioned, as he peeked around a fancy trellis, thick with climbing vines. "Robbing a garden party isn't very... sinister, you know? Not for Negaduck."

Not that he was complaining! Stealing from the wealthy was hardly a crime at all, or at the very least, he could easily convince himself of that.

"Nuh ah ah! Not just any garden party-" The water dispenser sitting beside him on a table, replied. "-a fund raising garden party! The orphanage will just have to go without this year."

"Oh." Bushroot swallowed the lump in his throat."Yeah, that's more like Negaduck."

Liquidator gave a reassuring smile.

"The best thing about tragedies, whether it be robberies or otherwise, is the publicity. I guarantee that whatever money is collected will be compensated- and then some! Saint Canard's elite won't allow the egg on their face, after all."

That did make Bushroot feel better, even if he severely doubted it. And in any case, even if that wasn't the case, the plant-duck suppose he could donate his share of the loot back to them…. Then again, he had a greenhouse of his own to take care of- and nobody was going out of the way to help HIM…. Oh fertilizer, if his morality hadn't been mulched before, it certainly was going straight to the compost now. Robbing from orphans, he couldn't believe it!

That all said, luckily enough the advantages of their mutation was that it made them both able to hide easily. Lurking amongst bushes was simple to do when you shared similar coloring- and water's ability to take on all shapes came in just as handy. It didn't take long, even with dodging the waiters that made their way back and forth down the walkway, before they had spotted their target. Amongst the carnations and lilies was a huge clearing with a large sheltered tent- a long fully decorated table under it. Most of the people, out in the open and chatting on the lawn, were dressed in old-school fancy duds. This caught Bushroot's attention as he carefully leaned towards his partner-in-crime to whisper.

"Say, what kind of weird party is this? I thought it was to raise money for the orphans? Looks more like we just missed the casting call for 'My Fair Lady', or something!"

The Liquidator snickered and shrugged.

"You know what they say- look out!"

"What? Who says that?" Bushroot asked, but found that his pal had vanished. A second later, he discovered why. He froze when two plump, middle aged woman passed by, right in front of him, on their way to the donation box. Bushroot watched them, and heard them gossip in hushed tones about people he did not know, being as still as he could. They apparently hadn't seen him the first time, why ruin a good thing?

His luck soon ran out, however, as on their way back through, they stopped in front of him, the one woman looking him up and down. Her lip curled up in distaste.

"Uhg, the rest of Julie's garden looks fine, but what in the world was she thinking with this one?"

"I don't know!" The other replied. "It's downright creepy, if you ask me."

Incredibly offended, Bushroot forgot about camouflage and glared at the two rude women.

"Hey! At least I have the decency to not show up to a party dressed like a Titanic survivor."

One of the women screamed, the other outright fainted. The woman who was still conscious took off running, holding up her skirt as not to trip over it.

"A monster! There's a monster in the garden!" She cried.

"No, wait!" Bushroot tried to reason with her, but it was too late.

"That's our cue to get out of there!" Liquidator announced, suddenly beside him, lugging a very large donation box. Swooping down and picking up his fellow mutated pal, the Liquidator started making a break for the exit.

* * *

Meanwhile, close by and on day-patrol, was a very tired and very annoyed Darkwing Duck. Drake Mallard had not been happy to have to wake up only a couple hours after going to sleep, in order to take his 'precious little angel' to school. And on a Saturday, at that! All from her getting in trouble earlier in the week and was forced to go to Saturday School as punishment.

"More like punishment for ME," Darkwing grumbled to himself. "I don't even know where Gosayln could have gotten all that jello to fill the cafeteria in the first place!"

And so, too worked up to go back to sleep, the masked mallard decided the best use of his time would be to take out his frustrations on the criminal element. That is, if he could FIND any criminals to bust. All that morning had been relatively quiet, besides getting into an altercation with a jaywalker. And it was looking to be a similar afternoon. Oh, maybe he SHOULD have just went back to bed- because now Darkwing was going to have to waste a night of crime fighting to catch up on sleep.

Darkwing's musings were cut off short as his radio came to life.

" _Darkwing? Darkwing Duck? You there?_ "

Darkwing snatched up the two-way radio.

"Yes, yes, I'm here, what is it?" Finally, some action! Maybe this would be enough to keep him awake.

" _Uh yeah, so, someone just called the police station about some kinda... plant monster in their garden_." Snickering could be barely heard in the background. " _And we thought this was more your kind of thing, yeah?_ "

"A plant monster!" Yup, that was certainly right up Darkwing's alley! "Say no more! Just give me the address, and leave this one to me, boys!" Suddenly wide awake and ready to go, he sped off to apprehend the gruesome garden goon.

* * *

The exit was in sight, a clean getaway assured. That was, until a cloud of blue smoke swelled up and obscured the view of it completely. Bushroot and Liquidator's hopes sank as the watery criminal skidded to a halt.

"I am the terror, that flaps in the ... afternoon!"

" _You_ , are a broken record!" Liquidator mocked, setting Bushroot down to blast the clearing smoke with a powerful burst of water. Darkwing Duck yelped in alarm, just barely dodging the attack. Unfortunately, the water did its job and cleared away the smoke. The masked mallard glared.

"Hey! Those cost MONEY, ya know!"

"Oh, put a sock in it," Bushroot said, snapping his fingers. This caused the rose bushes by the hero to spring to life. "Or better yet, eat grass. Get 'em, boys!"

While Darkwing fought off the plants, getting cut by the literal thorns in his side, he found himself backing up deeper into the party. The party goers cleared and screamed, but this was ignored as the hero dodged another attack.

"Hey, HEY! Can't we talk this out? I have a green thumb, doesn't that count for anything with you guys?!"

Apparently it did not, as Darkwing ducked underneath a concession table- the bushes ready to whack him with another bouquet. However, they missed the hero as they instead struck the table- causing the punch bowl to fly through the air.

Landing ungracefully on the Liquidator's head with a splash.

"Hey, no fair, come out and fight like a duck!" Bushroot gave the signal, and Darkwing was yanked out from under the table and dangled upside down in front of the rampaging rose bush- his gun pointed directly at it.

The rosebush squealed and recoiled when the gun went off, dousing it in chemicals that were quite obviously not plant friendly. Darkwing hit the ground in a way that might have hurt, had he not been in the crime fighting zone, and quickly scrambled to his feet.

"My Abraham Darby rose bush!" A woman screamed. Darkwing didn't have time to turn before he was walloped atop the head by a frilly white umbrella. "You brute!" He was whacked again. "I paid good money for that!" Whack.

"Lady!" Darkwing cried, getting hit on the head yet again. "I-" Whack. "WOULD YOU CUT THAT OUT ALREADY?!"

Liquidator's voice was laced with amusement, as his voice was close behind the plant-duck.

"Ah, the Calvary! Let's act now, and get a free box of money, just for fleeing!"

Bushroot turned around, ready to make tracks with his partner-in-crime, but whatever words he had planned died in his throat when he saw what the surprise bowl of punch had done to the Liquidator. He tried not to snicker and failed.

The watery canine, his once clear self made pink, was not amused.

"Hardee har har. Are we going to stand around and laugh, or are we going to make our exit?"

Bushroot, doing his best to hide his smile, nodded his head as he followed. It didn't help him any when the plant-duck could see the pout coming from his criminal companion.

"I, heh, I'm sorry, Buddy. I'm just not used to seeing you look so out of sorts. It's kinda cute."

Reminded him of his favorite pink petunias back at the greenhouse. However, Bushroot realized a little too late what he had admitted. Liquidator threw him a look as he lifted a brow, before his previous frustration of the situation melted from his face and into a smile. Still, nothing else was said as they continued to escape- and the scientist hoped that meant the topic would be forgotten. They had more important matters, after all.

Like where to hide.

* * *

Bushroot's suggestion of going back to his greenhouse was instantly rejected. Before he could find himself offended, Liquidator had quickly explained that it would be one of the first places Darkwing Duck checked- no doubt he would want to stalk the place for the next several hours. It was then that Bushroot suggested an alternative.

"Well… what about the woods near the place? It will be close enough by so the plants can tell me when Darkwing leaves, and there's a really nice clearing outside the camping grounds. With water and everything!"

"Now that's what I call a good deal! Satisfaction- and safety- guaranteed! Lead the way."

And lead the way he did. It seemed to Liquidator that his leafy pal knew these woods like the back of his hand, which came in handy. When they reached the clearing, even a businessman like himself had to admit it held a certain beauty. Of course, that could have been the elation of getting away with a crime talking.

Bushroot sat atop the donation box, which had been set down just outside the treeline, safely shielded from sight by the shadows cast by the foliage above.

"Well... what do you think?" He asked, tentatively, watching Buddy survey the area. Much of the punch had already been cycled out of his body, but he still held a slightly pink hue.

"Charming," Liquidator hummed to himself, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I can honestly say one of the best hideouts I've ever been to." A pause. "Excluding your greenhouse, that is."

Bushroot found himself quickly looking away, though he wasn't able to hide the big happy grin on his face from the other villain's praise.

"Aw, well, I'm glad to hear you say so. But, uh, it's okay. I know, when it comes to nature, the real thing is always better."

"Ah ah," the watery salesman scolded with a finger wag, sloshing his way over to the scientist before sitting down. "That's no way to talk about my home away from home. The Liquidator won't allow second rate talk, so you'll just have to accept it; cozy comfort always wins out!"

Bushroot snorted, and his hands shot up to cover his bill and quickly heating face. He needed to change the subject, and fast.

"Yeah, well... hey! You were great back there! I still can't believe we got away with it!" He patted the box under his stump rump, flustered embarrassment temporarily quelled.

"We're not out of the woods yet!" The Liquidator gave their surroundings a glance. "Literally. But, we got as far as we did, thanks to you and your quick thinking and fancy rose wrangling!"

Well, that backfired. Bushroot scoffed and fixed his attention on a curious squirrel across the clearing.

"Aw well, the rosebush did most of the work. I just, gave it a little encouragement, heh heh. But, but you swiped the cash right out from under their noses! I don't think I could have done that."

"Actions don't always speak louder than words! Telling Darkwing to eat grass, priceless!" Liquidator punctuated this statement with a hardy laugh.

Bushroot chuckled along with him.

"Oh, well, honestly I try not to use language like that. Straight from the compost, ya know? But Darkwing just brings the worst out of me."

" _Mmm, I disagree._ " The fluid fiend stretched his arms before draping his right one over his partner-in-crime, bringing him closer in a side embrace. Bushroot's blush intensified while Liquidator carried on. "I don't think I've ever seen you more confident, Reggie. It's a good look on you. Have you ever considered trademarking and making it your thing?"

Was… was Liquidator flirting? No, it couldn't have been. Bushroot was just seeing things through a rose tinted lense, just like he had a habit of doing. It was just Buddy being his usual friendly and bubbly self. He must be experiencing the same victorious high that the plant-duck was over getting away with a successful robbery. Nothing more and nothing less. Bushroot took a slow deep breath before answering.

"Oh, heh, no. I don't think I'd have enough supply, even if there was a demand. Too much of a pansy most of the time to muster much of anything." A sigh. "Though, it would be nice. You must feel like that all the time, huh? You know, confident and stuff. "

Silence was Liquidator's immediate reply. Bushroot looked over at the guy beside him. Liquidator sat slumped, gazing at the sluggishly flowing stream. When he sighed, it caught Bushroot off guard, and he flinched slightly.

"You might be surprised. Despite all the flashy advertising, the truth is, my career as a reputable salesman is all washed up."

Recognition and sympathy tugged on Bushroot's heart like a hunk of lead. He knew all about your life's goals and dreams being torn asunder by fate's cruel sense of humor. Now he sat slumped, the good mood officially ruined. His fault, no doubt.

"Yeah, I know the feeling. Being a mutant doesn't exactly make things easy. Heck, I always hoped I'd get married one day, and now look at me! Just a weed who can't even get a date."

Not that he had ever had any luck scoring a date when he wasn't mutated, but some details just weren't important enough to bring up. Liquidator was silent for a moment longer before he lightly squeezed Bushroot's shoulder.

"Then how about we fix that, _hmm_? We'll even seal the deal with a kiss to make it official."

Bushroot wasn't sure he heard right. He quickly jerked his head upwards as he stared at the water villain. The only thing close to evidence of the previous words uttered was the flirtatious expression on the Liquidator's face. Bushroot gulped.

"I… _excuse me_?"

"You want a date, and I happen to have a free schedule. Sounds like fun!"

"I, I," The mutant plant-duck sputtered, not sure what to say. His nervous expression quickly turned to a glare as he slipped from under the water canine's arm. "Oh, _I get it_. That's a joke. You're making fun of me, aren't you?"

He would expect that kind of behavior from Quackerjack, but he thought Liquidator actually cared enough about his feelings not to make fun of such a sensitive topic like that! Bushroot's reply hit Liquidator expectantly. He wasn't the type to assume the worst- for the most part, Liquidator had become a pretty optimistic kind of guy ever since his accident. So he hadn't really considered how this offer might come across to someone like Reginald Bushroot. The guy had lived a life of solitude and rejection, and sealing this deal was going to take a little more _razzle dazzle_.

"No!" His watery pal swirled up off the ground and took center stage with a flourish. "The Liquidator is known for many dastardly doings, but false advertising will never be one of them! Order now to receive not one, not two, but all seventy-two of Liquidator brand exclusive features and services."

Bushroot still wasn't sure he was being genuine- his salesman jargon always had an air of being pure gibe. But the guy was charming, he had to admit that, and when he sloshed over and leaned in, that flirtatious face inches from his own, he found it difficult to breathe, let alone stay upset.

"Operators are standing by for YOUR answer."

The plant-duck didn't know what to say! His first instinct was to scream 'yes'- quickly take a chance at the offer before it went away for good. It was what Bushroot had wanted, after all. What he had hoped for in the back of his mind every moment they spent together. He wanted it, _so so badly_. But… then there was another voice, one that spoke of toxic notions like not being good enough. That voice won out as Bushroot gave a sigh.

"I, are you sure, Buddy? I mean, the offer sounds really nice. And it would make me the happiest lyceum nycanthropus this side of Saint Canard. And I'll admit, I've thought about it for a long time. But…" Bushroot nibbled on the tip of a leafy finger hesitantly. "Are you sure I… I won't just end up disappointing you? Despite how I look, I'm not really all that special."

Liquidator momentarily frowned at this, before taking a finger and lifting up the plant-duck's bill so that Bushroot was looking at him directly.

"Now don't you start that, Reggie. You haven't disappointed me a single time yet, and I doubt you ever will. You've been nothing but a great partner-in-crime, and an even better friend. I'd be crazy not to jump on this opportunity and see where it can take us." The seriousness on the Liquidator's face melted away as he chuckled. "Besides, my ex-wife would be saying YOU are getting the bad end of the bargain!"

"Heh yeah, let's not go checking references..." Bushroot muttered, a few faces from his own past flashing through his mind. "Okay! If you're absolutely sure about this... uh, I accept? Do we, do we shake on it?"

The Liquidator grinned, and snatched up the offered hand, shaking it heartily. "A handshake is as good a place as any to start!"

Their deal defining handshake was interrupted when the eerie whispering began. It surrounded them- it was as if the trees themselves were conversing. Bushroot, however, seemed only intrigued, tilting his head slightly, as if listening. He frowned, and sighed.

"Well, there goes our night. Darkwing Date-Ruiner just set up camp right outside the greenhouse. Sorry, Li- uh, _Buddy_."

The news did not seem to take away any of the Liquidator's spirit, and in fact, put a bigger smile on his face.

"Ah, not ruined- made all the better!" The salesman sat back next to his new boyfriend, this time snaking an arm around Bushroot's slender waste. "Why waste such a romantic seclude view? Couldn't ask for a better date!"

Liquidator paused as he waggled a brow, causing the plant-duck's face to darken in a green blush.

"Besides, that just gives me plenty of time to explain in great detail what I meant by 'seventy-two exclusive Liquidator brand offers'."

Bushroot had to admit… that DID sound promising.


	4. Hurt, Comfort, and the Mystic Sax

The plan had seemed simple enough. The Fearsome Five were to wear their trench coats, walk into the Saint Canard Museum, replace the Mystic Saxophone with some regular ol' hunk of junk Quackerjack had procured- a place none of them decided they wanted to know, seeing as it smelled vaguely of pickle juice- and then they would just leave. And if they ran into any trouble, then it was also free admission day- which always meant that the place would be swarming with young students, their chaperones and their teachers- so they could just take a hostage or two and use them to leave the museum… nobody would be able to touch the villains. The plan had been simple, it had been perfect!

Or, at least, it would have been if the Fearsome Five even made it through the front door. In all honesty, it had been the biggest failure any of them had known to date- which was saying something, because they previously thought it was hard to top the time Bushroot had jumped straight into the backseat of a police car when he was trying to hide from Darkwing Duck. But no, they had topped it… and then some.

No one seemed to notice the small group of visitors, their seemingly magical trench coats protecting them from the public eye. In all honesty, most just pretended not to see- while being careful to keep their children away from the weirdos marching toward the building, single file.

Only four of them had been sporting trench coats; Megavolt had to settle for his dark red bathrobe. No one seemed interested in disputing this decision.

The crowd of people parted as they advanced, the entrance was in sight, and then it happened. Perhaps unaccustomed to wearing clothes, and perhaps more than slightly nervous, Bushroot had stepped on the low dragging hem of his trench coat. He stumbled forward, into Liquidator, who in turn stumbled into Megavolt, he into Quackerjack, Quackerjack into Negaduck. All five of them collapsed into a clumsy heap on the pavement.

This, of course, drew quite a bit of attention to them, and the sneaking was over, but so what? They were fearsome, they were powerful, and what they wanted, they made theirs. The coats were discarded, and the crowd gasped. A few screamed, and a few let out a sigh of relief that Megavolt had been wearing clothes under that robe.

However, no mayhem was wrought, for as the group marched their way towards the door they were interrupted by a familiar and equally awful blue smoke. Bushroot had known their plan was a bust the moment Darkwing Duck showed up, and he was only proven right when a few tussles later they were all running away- back to safety and as failures.

Or maybe safety wasn't the right word, for once they made it back to their meetup point- an old abandoned warehouse that Negaduck had assigned as the day's hideout- the evil masked mallard threw his hat on the ground and started stomping on it violently. Yelling loud enough that the pigeons resting on top of the building woke with a start and launched themselves into the sky.

"I can't believe it- I had everything planned! It was all there, that sax was gonna be in my grasp!" Negaduck dug his heel into his hat, making it all the worse for wear. "And then Darkwing had to come and happen! He was probably already there, waiting for us!" He paused, growing more hunched with his anger before swirling back around to face his henchmen- eyes red from pure rage. "No! No it was YOU knobs that ruined it for me! Which one of you caused the dork pile to crash on me? Huh? WHICH ONE OF YOU WAS IT?!"

"Well it certainly wasn't me!" Quackerjack blurted at once, casting an accusatory glance at Megavolt, who had been the one to crash into him.

"What? Don't look at me! I'm innocent!" Megavolt spat.

The four criminals stood, fearful for their very lives, as Negaduck's fury-filled glare swept over them. What made it worse, was that he was silent as he eyed each of them, as if he could smell the culprit. Finally, when his glare fixated on Bushroot, the ex-botanist gulped audibly. This was it. This was how he was going to die.

"I think..." Negaduck began, and suddenly he was inches from Bushroot's face. "It was you! The clumsy caboose!"

The snick-snick sound of a rather large pair of hedge clippers that Negaduck pulled out of seemingly nowhere made Bushroot whimper and step backward out of reflex.

"The weakest link!" snick-snick. The clippers snapped at Bushroot's midsection, threateningly. Bushroot backed up, and Negaduck matched his every step. "And I think... it's about time I trim a few dead branches off the team!"

The hedge clippers plunged forward, and Bushroot screamed- even though they stopped short when the watery canine sloshed up to form in between the two.

"Hey, I have an idea!" The bubbly salesman announced, in a seemingly good cheer. "Why cut your team short, when you could just make them work overtime to pay off the debt, instead?"

Negaduck lowered his trimmers slightly, as his brow did the slightest of raises.

"And what is THAT supposed to mean, facet face?"

Liquidator smiled wider, seeing he got his boss' interest.

"None know WHY the might of the Fearsome Five were drawn towards the humble, but still heavily stocked, Saint Canard Museum- a simple stakeout should do just the trick in our favor. With the Fearsome FOUR doing all the dirty work, what do you have to lose?"

Negaduck thought this over, rubbing his chin and mumbling to himself as groaning could be heard from the other side of the room- where Megavolt and Quackerjack had distanced themselves from the crazed clippers.

"Aww, more work," the toymaker whined, " _but that's not faaair_. Mr. Trips-a-lot was the one that messed up!"

The evil masked mallard growled, craning his neck to glare at the demented duo- this instantly quieting them.

"Shut up, ya costumed clods!" Nobody pointed out what Negaduck was wearing, as he went on. "We're GOING with Drippy's idea. Yeah, why should _*I*_ be doing the work when I got you losers to be doing it FOR me!" Their boss turned back to the mutated members of the group, as he eyed the villain hiding behind his watery pal. "But if you mess up THIS time… I'll forgo the sheers completely and put you through the woodchipper- CAPISCE?!"

Overly eager nodding and hurried verbal agreement that bordered on groveling was their reply. Good. It made things so much easier when the lackies knew their place.

"Good. Now I've got plans elsewhere, but I'll be back." He was already headed toward the exit. "You morons have three days to get me that saxophone. If you fail?"

Negaduck chuckled in a way that sent unpleasant chills through the four villains.

"Well, I don't recommend it." The door slammed shut and they flinched. Megavolt and Quackerjack both glared at the other half of the team in contempt.

"Oh, great. Thanks ever so much." Quackerjack's tone dripped with sarcasm. He plopped into a nearby wooden chair with a huff.

"Yeah, that's exactly how I planned on spending my weekend!" Megavolt snapped. Both of them proceeded to chatter amongst themselves, Quackerjack muttering something about it being Tuesday.

Bushroot was trembling, and he couldn't stop. Between almost becoming compost, and being reminded of what a failure he always had been and would forever be, the plant-duck was swimming in emotional overload. His head felt far too light. If he stayed any longer, he was either going to burst into tears, or pass out, neither of which would help whatever reputation he had left. He quietly excused himself and stepped outside, the cool night air already a welcome contrast to the stuffy confines of the shack.

The coolness became a pleasant chill when a cold wet hand placed itself gently and comfortingly on his shoulder. Bushroot turned around to see the Liquidator, as the other villain used his neck to point to the side.

"You know, five out of five doctors agree that walks do wonders for your health. How would you like to accompany me- _your favorite partner-in-crime_ \- on a late night stroll around this quaint and slightly decrepitating facility? _Hmm?_ "

Bushroot couldn't help but give a slight smile despite his troubled mood.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt. Sure, Buddy, lead the way."

Seeing that his invitation was welcomely received, Liquidator wrapped a watery appendage around the smaller scientist's waist- navigating his blossoming beau away from the hideout's entrance. Once well enough away, and sure that there were no tailgators, the salesman got straight to the point. No point in beating around the bush, after all. Especially when one's boyfriend could easily call said bush a cousin.

" Some day, huh? It wouldn't be the first time I've been unable to get a foot in the door on a deal, but I gotta say it's the first time I haven't even made it TO the door." He chuckled lightly just to show he meant his words in good will. His laughter was cut short by the way Bushroot wilted next to him. "Aw, now none of that, Reggie. So you had an off day- happens to the best of us!"

Liquidator's words, while obviously meant to comfort, only made Bushroot feel worse. Self-pity and despair stole away his ambition to walk, and he slumped to the ground against an old chain link fence, which was already overgrown with other worthless weeds, anyway.

"An off day? Ha! Try an off life! Aw, Negaduck was right; I really am pathetic. I don't belong on a team! Heck, I'm not even cut out to be the towel boy."

Liquidator frowned, and settled beside his wilting willow. He had always known that the guy had some serious self esteem issues, but perhaps they ran deeper than he had ever realized. Could Reggie not see what Buddy saw in him? That was a truly sad concept.

"Reggie, you know what I see when I look at you?"

"Compost?"

"Hardly! I see someone with unlimited potential."

Bushroot raised a brow at this, skeptical of what was said to him.

"Potential?"

"Indeed," Liquidator nodded, scootching a little closer and draping an arm over the plant-duck's shoulders. "You were a scientist working at a small time university, abused by the constant misconduct of your fellow workers. Once fired, you took it upon yourself to continue on with your experiments despite the risks, all because you were dedicated to your cause. Now look at you! You're one of Saint Canard's most feared criminals, with household recognition to boot!"

Bushroot's frown deepened at this.

"That's not really helping, Buddy. I'm not exactly proud of having people afraid of me."

The watery villain could see his paramour would be a harder sale than he originally thought. This, however, did not deter him as he used his free hand to raise a finger in excitement.

"Ah! But you should be! Intimidation is just as important as cooperation and niceties. While charm can get one far, sometimes you have to know when to put the pressure on those that have what you want. And Reggie, you now have the powers to do it. You have the ability to control resources that everyone in the town, nay, THE WORLD needs in order to survive! If you really put your mind to it you could have overrun the whole city with your vegetation compatriots ages ago!"

"But I don't really WANT to do all that. I'm a simple plant-duck with simple needs, remember?" While Bushroot protested, it was evident by the slight quirk of his bill and thoughtful expression that he was at least thinking about what the Liquidator was saying. And that was good enough for him.

"But you COULD! And that's an important distinction to make, even if you don't want to." Liquidator cupped the side of the plant-duck's face, Bushroot's eyes instantly locking with his own. The water dog went on. "You're greater than what you give yourself credit for, you know. And on top of that you have the potential to be even more than that. You'd do wonders, if only you'd let yourself."

Bushroot wasn't able to reply right away. He had never had anyone rooting for him, never had anyone tell him he had any worth- when it came to his life's ambitions, he had always been a team of one. Perhaps that was proof enough that what Buddy said was the truth. Dare he dream?

Eyes that were quite literally deep pools, were hard to read, and as Bushroot felt his own begin to well up with tears, he turned his head away to wipe at his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Buddy, I don't mean to be such a weeping willow. Do you really mean all that stuff you said?" An exotic looking plant sprouted from the ground then, and allowed Bushroot to blow his nose into its large leaves.

"Every word!" Liquidator announced in confidence, only slightly distracted by the newly defiled plant, which had already disappeared back into the ground.

Bushroot stood up then, still fighting the sniffles, but winning, in any case. Liquidator rose to meet him, pleased to see his pal was obviously feeling surprise came from his leafy partner wrapping his arms around him in a heartfelt hug.

"Thanks, Buddy. I really needed to hear that, I guess."

All smiles, the watery villain returned in kind, wrapping his arms around the other criminal's waste before leaning his forehead against Bushroot fondly.

"Always happy to spare a few words to those who want to listen- and even to some who don't!"

Before Bushroot could respond, they were interrupted by the sound of a cheerful and familiar voice calling for them.

"Buuuushbrain, Sir Piddle Puddle! Where aaaaare yoooou?" It didn't take long before Quackerjack- with a Megavolt tagging along not too far behind- to round the corner of the building and spot them. "THERE you two are!"

"For people that signed us up for triple shift," the electrical rodent grumbled, "you two ran off fast. Aren't we supposed to be getting to work, or what?" His fixed glare on the two mutants was diverted towards his demented pal when Quackerjack nudged him with his elbow. "What NOW?"

"Ooo la la, I think we just walked in on something." The toymaker giggled. "Didn't realize this was a PRIVATE party. SO, sorry!"

It took Megavolt a moment to make the connection, and when he did, his eyes grew wide.

"Whoa. Get a room!"

And then Quackerjack and Megavolt began snickering and giggling like children. The snickering soon turned to garbled screams when they were blasted with water, their close proximity to one another causing them both to be electrocuted instantly. They collapsed to the ground in a groaning, smoking heap.

"Caution; do not agitate your fellow team members!" Liquidator scolded. Bushroot managed not to laugh, but he failed to stop the amused smile.

"You know," The scientist started, not fully agreeing with what he was about to say, "you didn't HAVE to do that."

Liquidator gave a hearty laugh, leading his partner-in-crime back towards the entrance of the building- purposefully making a grand gesture of stepping over the fried villain pile.

"No, but one good laugh deserves another, don't you agree?"

Bushroot had to admit, it DID feel nice not to be the butt of a joke for a change. He had been terribly embarrassed to have been caught in such an intimate moment. Sure, a perfectly innocent intimate moment, but private nonetheless. And nobody likes to have others poke fun of their feelings. Speaking of feelings, Bushroot just couldn't get over the fact that Liquidator believed in him so much. HIM, a vegetative nobody who just lucked out in the powers department. It filled the plant-duck up with so much hope and pride. Liquidator hadn't steered him wrong before, and it would be nice to live up to those wonderful thoughts he had of him. That settled it, he HAD to do something. Make his boyfriend proud, make HIMSELF feel proud of his accomplishments for a change.

_But… where would he even begin?_

* * *

Stake out patrol was delayed a few hours that night- Quackerjack insisted he couldn't go out in singed clothing, and Megavolt needed to go home and recharge. The delay didn't bother Bushroot one bit; it gave him some extra time to come up with some semblance of a game plan. Sure, he was still on Negaduck's time, technically, but he had his own life and plans to think about, too!

Besides, Negaduck wasn't there, anyway.

The four of them had decided to meet a few blocks away from the museum, then walk together the rest of the way. No point in being caught before the whole crew had even gotten there. The mutant half of the team had gotten there first, of course, the other two still preparing.

"How does someone go about improving themselves?" Bushroot muttered to himself, as he sat on the ground, watching the Liquidator approach a man across the street.

"Look at him, so bold, so confident, going right up to that guy, like it's so easy. I sure wish I was like..." Bushroot suddenly sat straight as the solution to his problems materialized in front of him. Of course! What better a way to improve yourself, than to act like someone who is better than you are?

Bushroot took out a small pad of paper and a pencil, and began scribbling on it.

"Be... ! It's perfect! I'll just watch Buddy tonight, write down a few notes- I'll just do what he does from now on!"

Watching his boyfriend a bit more, the plant-duck couldn't help but be impressed by how the Liquidator tapped the unsuspecting man on the shoulder, before stretching and dodging his gaze as the watery villain slipped a slippery hand into the man's pocket. With another flick of the wrist, and a quick swoosh into the street's drain system, the villain was missed completely as the victim turned back ahead and continued on his way- this time less merry and more cautious as he occasionally checked back over his shoulder.

Once the man was gone, Liquidator popped out a head from the sewers, all smiles before sliding the rest of himself back to the surface world. The villain began to chuckle as he made his way back to his partner, flipping through the wallet.

"He may have an unattractive family, but this Larry Shoebuckle is at least doing well in life, if his credit cards and money are any indicator. Good for him!" The Liquidator's smile slipped as he finally noticed Bushroot had been busy writing away in his notepad, seemingly not noticing a word he had said. The water salesman quirked a brow. "And just what ARE you up to, Reggie?"

"Huh?" Bushroot's wide blue eyes shot up, the look of a child who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar on his face. The pad of paper quickly disappeared behind his back.

"Oh! Um, nothing, it's nothing, just, thought I'd get caught up on my uh... grocery list! Yeah."

Liquidator didn't believe this for a second; Bushroot was a terrible liar. Lucky for Bushroot, however, his watery companion didn't get a chance to press any further, as familiar giggling could be heard down the street. The pad of paper now forgotten, Liquidator peeked around the side of the building to wave down the other half of the team.

Megavolt and Quackerjack joined them in the alleyway, still snickering about some inside joke, no doubt. Megavolt had a few more gadgets than usual clipped to his belt- no one asked him what they were, much to Megavolt's disappointment. Bushroot was just glad to see them in a better mood than they had been in earlier. After a short exchange of words, the foursome made their way to the museum.

The place was even creepier at night, but weren't most things? Quackerjack pulled out a map of the place, and began looking at it, while the other three crowded around to look over his shoulder.

"Where the heck did you even get that, Quacky?" Megavolt questioned, scratching his head.

"From city hall, of course!" The surprised looks from the others took the smile off his face as he could practically read their collective thoughts. "Hey, I can be professional when I want to be, ya know!"

"The little crayon drawings on the sides would indicate otherwise," the Liquidator pointed out, with an amused lilt.

Quakerjack puffed up his chest, bill high in the air as he huffed.

"THAT had nothing to do with professionalism and more to do with the fact I have a creative genius that can't be contained." His haughtiness deflated into a pout. "Now are you guys gonna listen or not? I was GOING to share that I found a way inside, but if you guys don't wanna hear then me and my blueprints can go elsewhere!"

Megavolt groaned.

"Alright alright, they're nice drawings. Just spit out the plan already!"

Pleased as punch, the toymaker dramatically pointed at the paper in his hands as he shared what he had discovered.

"Not that I'm one to go into boring old museums often, but it looks like there's a skylight just a few halls away from the Egyptian exhibit. All we gotta do is get to the roof, find it, and it'll practically be the front door. _Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy_!"

Liquidator, who had been rubbing his chin thoughtfully while the mad mallard went over his findings, nodded encouragingly.

"Simple, but effective!"

"Yeah, way to go Quacky!" Megavolt praised his pal. Quackerjack bowed, his hat nearly hitting the rodent in the face in the process. "Hey, watch it!"

Megavolt was ignored.

" _Thank you, thank you_ \- I'll be here 'til Thursday!"

"Let's hope not!" Liquidator replied, already looking around for a way up to the roof.

"Yeah, let's grab the sax and get out of here. This place gives me the creeps!" Bushroot scurried after Liquidator.

"Does everything give you the creeps?"Megavolt whined, somehow both annoyed and amused. Bushroot shot him a look over his shoulder.

"Oh, stuff a bulb in it."

"Heeey!" Quackerjack elbowed Megavolt, playfully."Now there's an idea, ay, Megsy?"

Megavolt elbowed him back, his less playful and more painful. Quackerjack cackled, only to be shushed by Liquidator.

After quickly jotting down, 'take charge of the situation' into his notebook, Bushroot suddenly sprouted an idea on how to get up to the roof. He cleared his throat, and tapped Liquidator on the shoulder.

"If we need a lift..." there was a deep groaning sound, and a large, nearby tree bent and lowered a sizable limb, large enough for all four of them to fit. "Douglas might be able to lend a limb or two!"

Not waiting to hear any complaints, the tree snatched up the four of them and placed the group on the roof- gently patting their heads like a child playing with their dolls.

"Yeah yeah, you did good, Douglas," Bushroot said, shooing the tree away with leafy palm. "Thanks. I'll let you know if we need you again."

Watching the douglas fir give a quick salute before going back to its post, the plant-duck was startled by the cool arm thrown over his shoulder.

"I don't know about you, " the Liquidator chuckled, " but that was quite the uplifting experience!"

"Yeah, real spiritual." Megavolt grumbled his input, busy picking off the needles that the tree had left on him.

The toymaker of the group hadn't stuck around while the villains chewed the scenery, instead following his blueprints until finally spotting the skylight they were looking for. With a few good skips, his bells jingling along with him, Quackerjack danced in place as he called for his fellow cohorts.

" _Psssst_ , hey! I fooound it!"

Bushroot couldn't help but think of Spike's enthusiasm, and he momentarily wondered if Quackerjack would ever dig up and ruin his flower bed too. He didn't get to muse about it for long, as he was brought back to the moment by Megavolt taking one of the tools off of his belt. Getting onto his knees, he began to cut a large hole into the glass. Oh, so THAT'S what he had brought with him. Bushroot was starting to feel very under prepared, especially when all he thought to bring with him was paper.

' _Paper, that's practically carrying around the dead remains of a cousin_ ,' the plant-duck thought with mild disgust.

A cracking sound disturbed the four as the glass Megavolt had been cutting crashed through and began to fall- the brain fried rodent having forgot to place suction cups on it. While the team gasped, it was Liquidator who acted fast. With a swoosh the villain grabbed the falling glass, raising it back before carefully placing it on the roof. Bushroot sighed while Quackerjack sneered.

"Way to go, _Sparky_ , you almost blew the whole thing!"

"You know, I always forget the suction cups. Maybe THAT'S why I rarely use this darn thing." All thoughtfulness over his equipment vanished from the rodent's face as something dawned on him. "And don't call me Sparky! You KNOW I hate when you call me that!"

While the insane half of the team were bickering, Liquidator slipped through the hole, splattering into a puddle on the museum floor. As soon as he was certain the coast was clear, he reformed, and gestured for the other three to follow.

But there was a problem. Bushroot hadn't been the only one who had come unprepared; no one had thought to bring a rope.

"Well now what are we supposed to do?" Quackerjack whined.

"Some of us have bones, you know!" Megavolt hissed.

Bushroot knew a solution, but he didn't like it. Seeing as there was no other choice,he sighed. His root-like feet curled around the skylight's frame for support, and his body stretched up, and then down, through the hole. He managed to come within a foot on the floor before he reached his limit.

Megavolt and Quackerjack looked down through the skylight, at each other, and shrugged. That would work! Quackerjack bounced up and landed on Bushroot's back- eliciting an 'Oomph' from the makeshift silly slide- and then slid down, cackling the whole way. When he reached the bottom, he flew off the top of Bushroot's head, and had Liquidator not caught him, he would have made rubble out of a nearby display.

"My hero!" Quackerjack looked up at the watery canine, and fluttered his eyelashes. Liquidator dropped him.

"Welp, that's one," the water dog said just as confident as ever. Liquidator looked back towards his makeshift rope of a boyfriend to see Megavolt had much more cautiously slipped down his frame. He, however, still couldn't avoid the awkwardness of landing on Bushroots head, the impact causing them both to fall- the plant-duck's elongated body falling on top of them both in a coiled pile. Megavolt lifted the folds off of himself, peeking out.

"Okay, never going to do THAT again," the rodent complained.

" _No kidding_ ," came the muffled and strained agreement of Bushroot. Thankfully for them both, with the help of the other half of the Fearsome Four, they were freed quickly enough and the plant-duck was able to right himself enough to literally pull himself together. While Bushroot enjoyed being as tall as he wanted- something his short and stubby past regular duck self couldn't do- he had to admit the situation had been a stretch.

Now that they were inside the museum, step two could be put into effect. Megavolt didn't need the water salesman turned group leader to give him the next instructions as he could easily sense the cameras watching them and surrounding the area. Looking more like a cowboy from a western, the rodent made a pistol out of his right hand before firing off bolts of lightning. Pew pew, two in the front, and giving a quick twist he fired off one last bolt over his shoulder at the remaining camera. Once finished he blew off his slightly steaming fingers with a satisfied smirk.

Quackerjack was impressed.

"Niiiice shooting, Tex."

Megavolt was beaming with pride, Quackerjack's compliment only fuelling his ego. He didn't get to bask in his victory for long, however, before Liquidator took each of them by a shoulder, and spun them around.

"All signs point towards that-a-way to our final destination."

And it was true, there were multiple signs on the walls with arrows leading its visitors to its many different wings and attractions.

"Hey, don't shove, we're going, we're going!" Quackerjack huffed when Liquidator began pushing them down the hall.

"Studies in past experiences show that you two have a little trouble when it comes to focus, focus, focus!"

Megavolt scoffed, and satisfied that they were indeed at least going the right way, Liquidator stepped away, he and Bushroot trailing slightly behind.

"I can focus!" The electric rodent insisted angrily. " I didn't become a super villain just yesterday, you know. Whoa! _Is that a new display in the Edison wing_?"

Liquidator face-palmed as Megavolt stopped completely to see if he could decipher just what new item had been added from there, his hand cupping over his goggles as he squinted. The watery salesman was JUST about to say something when he was interrupted by Bushroot lightly tapping him on the shoulder. Looking down at the plant-duck quizzically, Bushroot pointed a finger down the hall.

"Uh, looks like we lost Quackerjack."

" _ **What?!**_ "

The watery villain looked frantically around to see if he could spot the missing criminal- at this rate they were going to get caught! Liquidator raised an ear in alarm as he heard mad giggling down one of the wings. Peeking around the corner, Quackerjack could be seen riding on top of a t-rex display in the dinosaur exhibit.

"It's like raising a toddler all over again!" The villain lamented in despair. Though, he momentarily mused, at least his own son had been adorable while terrorizing the pre-mutated villain. The toymaker, on the other hand, was just plain old trying his patience. And it was with a growl that Liquidator wound up his pitching arm before, with a throw, stretching his arm out and grabbing the distracted villain.

"Hey, what gives!" Quackerjack cried, as he was yanked from his prehistoric pony. Any further complaints from the demented duck were silenced by the intense glower on the usually friendly face of his watery teammate.

"Planning on keeping up crazed and childish antics," the Liquidator began softly but threateningly. " _Then I'll have to give you a double dose of Liquidator brand parenting_."

Before Quackerjack could question what THAT had meant, he yelped in surprise as the villain drew the duck into his body. Quackerjack was stuck! Unable to move! And a glance down at his torso he was able to see why, and Liquidator had used his powers to make a makeshift baby carrier and was keeping the toymaker hostage.

"THERE, " Liquidator said with a satisfied smirk. "Now a 100% guarantee that you won't be running off again."

Quackerjack crossed his arms and he sunk deeper into his carrier- glaring off into the distance.

" _Party pooper_."

"Stay... focused." Bushroot muttered as he scribbled the note into his pad. That seemed like an obvious one, but it couldn't hurt to jot it down, anyway.

"Where's Megavolt?" Bushroot looked up when he heard just how exasperated the Liquidator's tone had been. The ex-salesman's seemingly bottomless well of patience was quickly drying up. Bushroot glanced around, and sure enough, they were one team member short again. A flash of yellow caught their attention across the hall in the Edison exhibit, and both Liquidator and Bushroot sighed.

"I'll go get 'im." Bushroot volunteered, and trudged off to fetch the errant spark plug.

* * *

By the time they had reached the Egyptian exhibit, no one was having a good time. Megavolt and Quackerjack were angry for not getting to explore and take home a few toys, and Bushroot and Liquidator were tired of hearing them whine about it.

"Good, we're here, now would you let me go already!" Megavolt snapped, tugging on the harness and leash that was actually Bushroot's arm.

"Yeah, and let me down!" Quackerjack whined, bouncing up and down in his makeshift papoose made of water, which wasn't exactly a pleasant feeling for the Liquidator. Just because the water salesman didn't have a digestive system didn't mean he didn't feel nauseous from being shaken up. Giving the tantrum having villain the boot, Liquidator flushed him from his system- making the jester a sopping wet puddle on the museum floor. With the literal and figurative load off of him, Liquidator sighed as Bushroot looked sympathetically at him.

' _Poor Buddy_ ,' the plant-duck couldn't help but think with a hint of guilt. ' _He wouldn't be putting up with any of this if we just got the darn thing earlier. Negaduck would never put up with any of this_.'

Introspection would have to be put on hold, however, as a loud gasp caused the four villains to spin around. There standing at the entrance of the wing was a burly looking guard. He was shaking in his uniform even as he pointed his flashlight at the villainous cohorts.

"The Fearsome Five!" The guard did a quick count. "Er, _four_ , even. What… What are YOU doing here?!"

Megavolt blinked.

"Stealing?" He paused as he threw a look towards his partner-in-crime. "We ARE stealing, right? I swear I lost track of the plot a long time ago."

"Beats me, I'm just here as the comedic relief." Quackerjack answered with a shrug.

Meanwhile the night watchman was fumbling with his radio with the intent on calling on backup. That was not good. Backup meant getting the attention of the police, or worse- Darkwing Duck. On top of the frustrations of going through this scheme, as well as not taking a chance on Negaduck breaking his promise of a tossed salad, Liquidator would not allow them all to be carted off to prison. Not here, not now.

"Long night on the job?" Liquidator began, marching menacingly towards the guard. "Things just not going your way? _Then you're not the only one, bub_!"

The villain leapt and dived towards the security guard, encasing him entirely in his body. The man kicked and screamed, trying to swim his way out of the liquid prison. Liquidator bubbled rapidly, his heat rising and the guard inside him panicking more. It didn't take long before he passed out from fear and lack of oxygen, and Liquidator quickly expelled him from inside his body. He wanted the man knocked out, not DEAD, after all.

"In-timi-dation... oh, this is good stuff!"

Megavolt elbowed Quackerjack, and nodded toward Bushroot, who was busy writing in a notepad.

"Hey, Quacky... what's Bushbrain up to? Writing fanfiction?"

Quackerjack tiptoed over to look over Bushroot's shoulder, and then reached a hand over and snatched it from his grasp. " _Let's see now..._ "

"Hey! Give that back, it's mine!" Bushroot lunged for the pad, and Quackerjack easily sidestepped him, giggling and hopping backwards.

"Hey Megs, catch!" He tossed the notepad, and it arched over Bushroot's head, where Megavolt caught it. Bushroot tried swiping it again, and Megavolt turned his back just in time.

"Huh? 'Be confident'? 'Take charge'? What kind of notes are these?"

He flinched when the pad was snatched from him by a glaring Liquidator. Buddy's glower quickly turned genuinely apologetic when he saw what he had done to the now waterlogged and illegible notepad. He held it out to Bushroot, anyway, who tried his best not to show how disappointed he was.

"Uh... sorry about that, Reggie..."

"Oh, it's alright... I think I remember most of it, anyway."

That didn't stop Liquidator from feeling bad about it, though. It did, however, make him decide to redirect his feelings into anger as he glared metaphorical daggers at the demented duo. Megavolt and Quackerjack laughed nervously.

"SO, Megsy," Quackerjack said, spinning his pal around and directing him towards the glass display where the Mystic Saxophone was waiting for them. " Shouldn't you be using your toys to snip-snip and get us that sax?"

"Right," the rodent replied, nodding his head as he began to fumble with the tools on his belt. "I'm just going to, ya know, go do that now. _Aheh heh_."

"Ah, happy to hear that! Cooperation does wonders!" The water villain's voice may have SOUNDED friendlier, but his posture certainly was not. Liquidator decided it didn't hurt to keep up the intimidation act if it kept them on task- but couldn't help but throw a wink towards the plant-duck next to him while the others weren't looking.

Bushroot smiled back at him, still not yet free of the butterflies in his tummy every time the guy looked at him. His disappointment over the notepad was gone. It was just nice to have someone stick up for him for once.

The last time Megavolt had seen a saxophone in person, was back in his High School days- he had forgotten just how big they were. The case it resided in was locked, of course, but that didn't matter much when you had a glass cutter. He made a mental note to swipe the slumbering display lights, as well.

After examining the case for a few seconds, and the size of the instrument, he decided that one whole side would have to go. As he went to work on that, the other three kept watch for more guards. A boring job, indeed, Quackerjack lamented to himself, crossing his arms and leaning up against the door frame. Suddenly, as if his complaints had been heard and recognized, the boredom was broken with the sound of shattering glass.

Liquidator, Bushroot, and Quackerjack spun around to gape incredulously at Megavolt and the display case, one whole side of it now lay in pieces on the floor.

"I always forget the suction cups in these stupid things." Megavolt shrugged. He was then shoved out of the way by Quackerjack- who eagerly bounced past the broken glass. Bending over slightly to get a better view of the saxophone, the villain whistled.

"Talk about dingy! The sax I found at the dump is in better shape than THIS old hunk of junk. Shame, really, I think we might be downgrading."

" _No kidding_ , " Megavolt muttered in agreement, "But Negaduck wants it and that's all I need to know. So just hurry up a replace the darn thing so I can go home, Quacky." A pause. "Oh, and don't forget about the sensors. They're very sensitive to weight change, so you'll have to switch them out fast."

The toymaker waved his pal off playfully.

"Not a problem at all! They don't call me 'Quick- fingers McGee' for nothing!"

As if to prove his point Quackerjack wiggled his digits in anticipation before pulling out the elastic of his pants. Stretching a hand down inside his poofy trousers- his tongue sticking out in concentration- he fumbled around. Quackerjack gave a small 'aha!' as he found what he was looking for- pulling out a saxophone of his very own.

Bushroot, genuinely alarmed, leaned towards the Liquidator as he whispered.

"Oh, for cabbage's sake, where in the world was he HIDING that thing?"

"Beats me, " the water dog replied, " but survey says when it comes to insane toymakers, some questions are better left unanswered."

Bushroot decided he agreed, and wondered what was taking them so long. Megavolt also wondered what was taking so long. He glared over Quackerjack's shoulder- the nutty toymaker seemed to just be staring at the stupid thing.

"What are you doing? Grab it and let's get out of here!" Megavolt snapped. Quackerjack shushed him sharply, never taking his gaze off of the valuable instrument.

"Shh! I'm concentrating. Things like this take time, and precision, and-"

"Quackerjack we don't have all night!"

He knew Megavolt was right, as that really translated to 'hurry up before Darkwing Duck shows up and crashes the party'. He huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, fine." Quackerjack quickly, and effortlessly, switched the instruments, hefting the valuable one against one shoulder, his free hand on his hip. "You really know how to suck the fun out of everything, you know that?"

"Yeah yeah, whatever," the rodent pulled his pal by the arms, dragging him towards the exit. "You can call me a 'party trooper', or a 'duddy luddy', or WHATEVER you like later!"

The four of them had made it out the exhibit and down the hall back to the hole they had started from. Bushroot sighed as he realized that, yet again, he would have to become a climbing-vine for the others to walk all over. The plant-duck would ponder the symbolism of it later, as he grew towards the exit.

Bushroot called down towards his pals.

"Okay, I think I'm good, guys!"

"I call dibs to ride Melonhead first!" Quackerjack cried, laughing as he ran towards the beanstalk. "Last one to the top has to marry a golden goose!"

"That would be one way to make a profit!" Liquidator said with a chuckle as he splashed his way past the ducks and was the first outside- not needing to climb his partner-in-crime. "Though, the Liquidator brand of victory also satisfies!"

The toymaker, who was halfway to the top, gasped in offense.

"Hey, no fair, you cheated!"

"You may call it cheating." Liquidator peaked down through the skylight at him, smiling. "I call it exploiting a natural advantage." A wink, and he disappeared again. Quackerjack pouted, and scurried up the rest of the way, followed by Megavolt.

While Quackerjack was making fun of Bushroot for his arranged marriage with a golden goose, and the fearsome foursome were being lifted down from the roof by Douglas, our heroic caped crusader was arriving too little too late.

"I am the terror, that flaps in the- _oh you've gotta be kidding me._ "

Darkwing stood in an abandoned Egyptian exhibit, broken glass on the floor and an old, rusted saxophone in the case. He walked around the display, scratching his chin, careful not to step on any of the glass.

"Huh... I guess they decided not to steal anything after all. Not that I blame them; this thing's a piece of junk. Oh well! I guess I'll just-"

His communicator squawked to life then, as Morgana McCawber- the reason he had been late arriving to begin with- began berating him, calling him a few not-very-nice names. He fumbled with the device before switching it off.

"Heh heh... as I was saying, I guess I'll just have to comb the entire museum to see what was stolen!"

The rest of their date would have to be put off until later. Too bad.


End file.
